It began four weeks ago. Thousands of students at campuses across Puerto Rico began a strike to demand their right to quality public education. After the University of Puerto Rico (UPR) instituted $100 million in budget cuts, and in part inspired by other student movements in California earlier this spring, students began occupying their campuses. Sustained by food and water tossed over fences by family, and encouraged by faith leaders and unions across the country, it appears that these students will remain committed into month two until the university agrees to come to the table. University professors and workers have declared their support for the student strike and are strongly urging the UPR administration to begin negotiations. Professor and dramatist Roberto Ramos-Perea has sent an appeal to the international community outlining the reasons for the strike and documenting the human rights abuses that are being committed in response to the strike, such as the refusal of light, water, and food to the students. Thus far, the university has refused negotiations and has only responded with the deployment of riot police. Curiously, coverage of this historic strike by Puerto Rican students has been virtually non-existent among U.S. media sources. Democracy Now, however, is one exception.

"University of Puerto Rico is Not for Sale"

It has been an interesting two weeks, to say the least, since Arizona governor Jan Brewer signed SB1070 into law, a law which effectively makes the failure to carry immigration documents a crime and gives police broad power in detaining anyone who is “reasonably suspected” of being an “illegal immigrant.” I do not aim to provide a perspective that has not already been articulated by former Nobel peace prize winners or millions of recent immigrants whose lives will be directly impacted by such legislation. However, I would like to highlight Arizona’s recent ban of ethnic studies, which underscores what is really at the heart of Arizona’s immigration law: legalized xenophobia, targeted not at the immigration system, but at human beings of a different color, origin, and linguistic heritage than those who have the power to identify themselves as “real Americans.” This is why, on May 1st, also recognized as International Workers’ Day, hundreds of thousands of people around the country rallied for immigration reform that respects human dignity. In Washington DC, the four students who marched 1,500 miles from Miami along the Trail of Dreams were joined by thousands in their rally at the White House; in Los Angeles, more than 60,000 marched; in Atlanta, more than 5,000.

Of course, media coverage and public discourse on this issue end with the person who claims: “It’s simple. Those people are illegal.”

As a person of conscience, however, I can’t help but ask myself: Looking back in history, who gets to decide who is us or them? Who writes the laws? What happens when a certain group of people is dehumanized and made into the scapegoat, the root cause of all of the society’s problems? How would an honest, and thus radical, reading of human rights principles interpret the concept of ‘illegal people’?  Not surprisingly, the only source I am able to find that seems to make some sense of this current immigration ‘debate’ is in the form of brilliant satire:

Currently making its way through the Georgia State Legislature is Senate Bill 67, or the English-Only for Driver’s License Exams bill. The bill’s proponents argue that the bill will work to keep the roads safe and that it is “tough on illegal immigration.” However, many human rights groups and religious organizations in Atlanta, such as the Georgia Refugee Policy Initiative, the Georgia Latino Alliance for Human Rights (GLAHR), and the First Iconium Baptist Church, among others, argue that it is a fallacy to claim that the same language level is needed to take a written exam as to follow clearly marked street signs and warnings. Such a bill, they assert, would make roads less safe by preventing people from taking the exam in their native language, and thus increasing the likelihood that they may not fully understand the rules of the road. Moreover, the bill targets “lawful, documented immigrants who are trying to make a living in the state of Georgia, but whose English may not have yet reached the level of proficiency needed for a full license exam,” as Teodoro Maus, President of GLAHR, points out. Because the bill makes exceptions for illiterate Georgians, many claim the bill is discriminatory against newly arrived Americans, and is reminiscent of the Jim Crow literacy tests of the past. For New Americans unable to pass a full English-only driver’s license exam, the bill would take away their ability to fully participate in their new community- with mounting cuts in public transportation, how do the bill’s sponsors propose that these Americans get to their English classes or buy groceries to feed their families?

Groups such as the Refugee Women’s Network have argued that the bill would be especially detrimental to refugee and immigrant women by keeping them isolated and unable to access jobs or health services, attend domestic violence prevention programs, or engage in parent-teacher conferences or their children’s after school activities. Many of these women are also active entrepreneurs who contribute greatly to the economy by opening up restaurants, day care centers, beauty salons, etc. Such driving restrictions would prevent them from providing for their families and helping to strengthen Georgia’s economy. The test is currently offered in 13 languages, and not only are there no data that prove that people who pass the translated tests are less safe drivers than those who take the test in English, but Americans who travel or live abroad are overwhelmingly given the opportunity to take their driver’s exam in English. For a state that is trying to become an “international destination,” it is hard to understand why it would impose restrictions on people of international origin.

Nearly sixteen years have passed since the assassination of Rwandan President Juvenal Habyarimana on April 6, 1994, and the beginning of the Rwandan genocide. Within three short months, more than 800,000 people were killed by friends, neighbors, and members of Hutu Power militias. Several years ago, I had the  opportunity to visit and study in Rwanda, where I met remarkable young Rwandans who, after having witnessed unimaginable terror in their childhoods, have committed themselves to building lasting reconciliation in their communities. The majority of international media coverage and financial resources have been directed to the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (held in Arusha, Tanzania), which has jurisdiction over charges of war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide. Interestingly, a former U.N. ambassador for Rwanda, Jean Damascene Bizimana, who is accused of involvement in the execution of the genocide, was found last week in Alabama. Despite the obvious necessity of prosecuting the masterminds of the genocide, the Tribunal has only convicted 29 persons between 1995 and 2009, and thousands of survivors continue to feel that justice has not been fulfilled. Specifically, 250,000 women were reported to have been raped during the genocide, and approximately 70% of them contracted HIV as a result. While the trial of Jean Paul Akayesu established the international precedent that rape is a crime of genocide, many of the 100,000 survivors of sexual violence are still unable to access necessary anti-retroviral medication (ARV) or basic healthcare services. What does “global justice” mean for these survivors? What forms of “justice” is the international community responsible for after failing to stop the genocide in the first place? 

On the evening of March 24, 1980, while performing mass, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated by a death squad for his public denunciations of El Salvador’s militarized state and mass human rights violations. In 1993, a report by the U.N. Truth Commission on El Salvador revealed the person responsible for ordering the assassination as Roberto D’Aubuisson, a graduate from the School of the Americas in Colombus, Georgia. Archbishop Romero’s funeral on March 30, 1980 was attended by more than 250,000 people, and is recognized as one of the largest demonstrations in Latin American history. Today, people throughout El Salvador and the world remember a man who was committed to the principles of liberation theology and spoke out bravely against poverty, torture, and social injustice. For these same reasons, Romero was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize in 1979, and is widely considered the unofficial patron saint of the Americas. Ironically, as the world celebrates Archbishop Romero, the Texas Board of Education voted on March 10th to remove all mention of Romero’s life, work, and political activism from its curriculum because he is, as members argued, “not well known.” My question: Isn’t making things known the precise point of education?

For the first time, the United States will submit a domestic human rights report to the United Nations Human Rights Council for review this fall. The U.S. refused to participate in the universal periodic review process under George W. Bush Administration, but under the current Obama Administration, the U.S. State Department under Secretary Clinton has agreed to hold itself to the same human rights standards as the other 192 U.N. member countries. Will such scrutiny of the United States’ human rights record lead to justification of abuses by other nations? What impact will such a report have on local social movements struggling for universal human rights protections, such as LGBT communities, migrant workers, and Native American groups?

U. N. Human Rights Council, Credit: OHCHR

This past Saturday, I had the opportunity to attend a welcome party for the four students who are marching from Miami to D.C. for immigration reform. It was a beautiful event filled with music, food, and people from throughout the Atlanta community. The event was organized by the Georgia Latino Alliance for Human Rights and the Georgia Association for Latino Elected Officials, among others. The four students shared with us stories of their march thus far, including a recent encounter with a KKK anti-immigrant rally in south Georgia. Luckily, the students were accompanied by local NAACP members, and were able to sing freedom songs together while surrounded by the KKK. As they move through Atlanta, supporters are worried for their safety as they pass through Gwinnett County, where Sheriff “Butch” Conway has instituted serious anti-immigrant measures in his police force. According to Georgia immigrant rights leader, Adelina Nicholls: “Sheriff Conway is one of the most dangerous figures in Georgia, who has turned Gwinett County into a place of fear, racial profiling, arrest, and deportation.” While the welcome party was a time of celebration and fellowship, there was also recognition that there may be further incidents of fear and intimidation for the students on their long journey to the capitol. However, the students shared their unwavering hope and commitment to their cause with the audience and will proceed north in the days to come…

In a post I wrote on January 1st, 2010,  I highlighted the effort of four immigrant students who intend to walk 1,500 miles from Miami to Washington, D.C. along a Trail of Dreams. Their goal? To inspire a nation to stand up for immigration reform that respects human dignity. With great enthusiasm for their continuation of a long tradition of student activism, mirroring the courage of the Freedom Riders (but this time traveling north), it is exciting to announce that these students, along with many others who have joined them along their long journey, will be arriving in Atlanta on Saturday, February 27. A festive welcome party hosted by the Georgia Latino Alliance for Human Rights will be held at the First Iconium Baptist Church.  To follow the Trail of Dreams, click on this map.

On February 11th, journalists and human rights bloggers around the world are using their voices in the media to stand in solidarity with Iranian human rights activists. In Iran, February 11th is recognized as “Victory of the Revolution Day,” which is meant to celebrate human liberty and freedom. The Iranian government, however, has long violated these principles and is responsible for numerous human rights abuses including torture, arbitrary arrests, censorship and a recent execution of  two activists accused of inciting the post-election protests on June 12th, even though they had been held in detention prior to the demonstrations. For more information on the current state of human rights in Iran, Amnesty International’s country report is a great resource. Also, for details on how to use media and social networking to stand in solidarity with Iran, please visit the Iranian human rights information page at Bloggers Unite.

Fifty years ago today, on February 1st, 1960, four black students in Greensboro, North Carolina refused to leave a segregated lunch counter in a direct challenge to Jim Crow laws in the South. This tactic of civil disobedience spread like wildfire, especially among students- by the end of the year, more than 50,000 students defiantly and strategically used the sit-ins to protest racial segregation and injustice. A great article by Hasan Kwame Jeffries in Race-Talk rightfully highlights the importance of recognizing that the students were not only protesting against something, they were also positively asserting their human rights and actively living out their alternative visions of a free and just society. (Photo: Courtesy of Greensboro News and Record)